Category Archives: Frank’s Moving Castle

December 4, 2025 · 8:50 pm

00480615

“I- don’t know where I am!!”

“Wait a minute. Yes… yes I this I *do* know where this must be,” Mouse rectifies as his head stops spinning around an unknown center and the earth moves up to meet his feet, giving him balance on the perch above the trees. True earth, and not that fake crud up down sideways in Our Second Lyfe. “Bill,” he says, looking down. “This must be Bill again, a, um, reduction from the mountain in Maine. As, yes, mass turns into energy for locomotion… across the landscape. I *remember*.”

—–

“I forgot to tell you — I got a postcard from Mouse today,” Frank says after he puts his hands on the planchette to begin. “Turns outs he’s in Vermont, not New Hampshire.”

“Interesting. Okay… back to the game.” Philip also touches the planchette from his side, which then rather quickly spells out OLD ZIRCON. The self described phased-out Byzantine devil ends up giving them the answers they both need and desire. tbc

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December 4, 2025 · 7:48 am

00480614

Afterwards she provided more details about her father. Finally. “He lived on top of a mountain but not that one, the one we talked about before.”

“Okay,” I said, thinking of my own mountain, my own castle here. I don’t live on top — not yet anyway; working my way up there with the positioning of this bed behind the eyes at the top of the spiral staircase; just for more privacy on this special special occasion (!) But instead more in the middle where the great majority of my things are still, like my notebooks, like my piano. Just behind the mouth and that gall darn big tongue sticking out from within. The one Philip likes to take his wee-wee’s off of between games of High Speed, ha. Hmm, wee-wee again. Pee pee, I restated in my mind, to match Daisy’s progression of the phrase in moving from real to virtual back in ’12, she revealed.

“They torn down his *house*, Frank,” she just blurted out. “It was awful. Just because he was a rich white man in a poor black country-state working on stuff they couldn’t understand.”

“I’m sorry about that,” I decided to say.

“So am I. He built a much smaller, much more modest house to live in after that but they just torn that one down too, the ‘stuff’ being the problem and not the money he made off of it. Not really… at the core. He had no choice but to leave. Off this world, actually, to a second one initially thought to be far far away indeed, unobtainable to reach in distance of space. He sank all the remainder of his money into the endeavor.”

“Off – world?” I didn’t know where this was going. Was she insinuating that her father was an astronaut? Actually flew into space on a rocket ship? “What could he have… I mean, what did he do to–”

“–incite the people to such anger, such destruction?” she finished his fumbling question. “He was head of a startup company developing AI.”

“Artificial – intelligence?”

“Yes. And they, the townspeople surrounding him on all sides east west north south, believed it to be an evil spirit, a rare, *dark* orisha they called it. Because it threated the whole world, the survival of the human species itself. Or so they were told.”

She became silent here, like a mute button was automatically activated on her flat top head. And so it was. tbc

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December 2, 2025 · 3:30 pm

00480610 (1st Pierr/)

“You see? You SEE?? Columbine. Revealing strangely bright lit Edward Pierrot coming from the North. He doesn’t know what will backstab him in a minute. Or back *stick* him as in a stab. This is important. This is *crucial*. She should have never opened that door in the wall and neither should we.”

“Simmer down, Mouse,” said Philip Strevor to his oft times housemate, still unable to beat his high score at his best game, NUMBER not to be taken down yet. 28064212. “Just start over at the beginning, pal,” he said while also looking up at the castle’s video feed he just walked in on. Mouse: always jabbering, always theorizing. Until it ends.

“How about the middle,” said Mouse, and then went there.

“The banana moon hangs low in the blue night-sky, yellow-ish or maybe even green-ish, sun nowhere to be shone now,” he describes. “In the shadow made by the walls the stick keeps poking, keeps jabbing, turning him ’round and ’round and eventually gone. Leaving Columbine for…

“…. Harlequin. This is the tragic tale of our Edward, Philip.”

“Edward… Philip?” TBC

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November 24, 2025 · 7:52 am

00480604 (00420515 revisited (1/2 way))

“Get out the shot, honey. I’m trying to take a picture of that ghoul in the cemetery over there!”

—–

“My people were tough on crime. And they didn’t tolerate breaking the law either. We grew up in the shadow of a mountain that began with Wee-Wee. My mother, when we moved over here to the states in ’79, said to be proud of the name and where we came from. But I was embarrassed, always called it the alternate name of Onigbaporo however tongue-twisty and unmemorable that was to the white people of our new land. But when I found Pee Pee Creek over on the west side of Rodentia and its crazy cemetery and its baffling preacher church I knew I had also found a home again in this world of Our Second Lyfe. My mother was priestess before in the “Wee-wee” place we came from and now I became quote unquote priestess in the Pee Pee place, as male and female polarities also switched positions there. It all made some kind of beautiful, circular loop.”

I studied the photo she held in her hand, looked at the flat headed statue of her mother in the center square the townspeople chose to erect before they left, a permanent tribute to her famous presence in their small Nigerian burg. Then I looked up from the photo at Daisy’s flat hair, the perpetually shaving razor held by a ghostly, hovering hand next to it. I started to understand the dynamics involved. But there was still the explanation of her non-colored father remaining. Non, hmm, I pondered. Could that be the reason for the obsession with creating the perfect, non-alcoholic brew? Turns out this was so… partially. TBC

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November 10, 2025 · 6:00 pm

00480505 (Franks combined (666 coverup))

Frank Lynn liked to read while on the toilet and had quite the collection of magazines laying about the castle’s only bathroom. But in putting down a copy of “Xxxmas Belles” picked for the season and taking a look around, he realizes he needs to clean up all this before Daisy comes up for a visit, which he guesses will be real soon. 1st date already done: ice cone parlor in Juho, then hanging down at the beach by the upper end of the Nawt Vaya Sea. Some smooching occurred, to his delight, but not too heavy, since this was a public place and all. And, yes, he found out that she had a black mama. Not a New Ager like his own, into all sorts of aroma therapy and aura cleansing and shite. She wasn’t raised a granola child like him, which he kind of rebelled against when he got into his teens. But still — the same color. And something was going on with her father but she avoided further questions about that after it was vaguely brought up — peculiar. Oh well, hopefully I’ll find out more soon enough, he thinks while pulling out his phone from his lowered pants. Maybe I should give her a call now that I have her number, set up that 2nd date while I’ve worked up the courage. Goodbye Miss Mistletoe 2025, he said in his mind, taking one last gander at the centerfold spread out on his lap with the waiting lips. Hello a different, more real and attainable kind of those. Dialing…. *now*.

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November 10, 2025 · 8:02 am

00480504 (Old Railroad Grade (C is 4…))

“Caledonia has been mentioned in 48, *cement pond* has been mentioned. That’s 2 in a row. And then Baker obviously, since that’s me: baker b.! And through baker b., both Baker Bloch and Baker Blinker, the original male-female duality of the blog and what everything builds around. And then Maxwell to end — she’s obviously around as well (wife). So that’s 4 in a row again, just like here in your castle, Frank. Whaddaya think, huh? HUH?”

“Get out,” Frank says to this issuance. Philip starts to leave. Frank catches him. “No no, I mean, get out of him, baker b. I want to talk to Philip directly.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Philip” turns around, returns to the couch. Baker exits the body; Frank has learned enough from him. “W-where am I, w-what *happened*?”

“Never mind all that, Philip. You’re back and that’s the most important thing.”

“I *am*?”

“Yeah, it happened again. You got all dizzy and had a lie down, let’s say.”

“I *did*?”

“Yes, you *did*.”

“Huh. I can’t remember.”

“Of course not.”

“I can’t remember *any* of that. Was I high on speed? Was I playing High Speed? And, worst of all, was I playing High Speed while high on speed?”

Frank decided to say, all of the above.

“Golly.”

“Golly Miss Molly, yeah.”

Philip looks up at the video feed, at the map. “W-what’s that? 4?”

“Yeah.” Must still be doing a little channeling, Frank rationalizes this insight. “4 in a string,” he explained, “but I think Caledonia is 4 instead of 1. It’s reversed from what I saw before here. I’M WITH STUPID — that indicates (the holder is) the wife. And (stone holding) hubby baker b. is being pointed to, ha. Veery clever. And cement turns into concrete to seal the deal. Concrete, Washington I’m talking about here, which use to be named Baker. I checked: former towns Cement City and Baker combined to form Concrete back in 1909. So there’s that.”

“But… why am *I* here?”

“I told you. You were playing pinball. In the wrong way. Again.” In truth, *Edward* turned into Philip while Mouse had a bit of a lie down after all the excitement. He was in the spare bedroom that Philip uses occasionally. No room today. Well, there’s never any room in the tiny bedroom adjacent to the stairwell. STOP

GO “What’s this, then. Adjacent?”

“Yes, Philip. The tile before the 1st. Le Roy. Lime, indicating lime Jell-O, a new, 5th flavor added to an original 4 in 1930. We have to go down. Something — is there. TBC

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November 9, 2025 · 3:12 pm

00480503

I watch over him from the moved table as he continues to shake. I called Lexi and she said it was in all likelihood an epileptic fit caused by all those Youtube poop videos he watches with the flashing lights and all. She just suggested keeping an eye on him until it passes — and DON’T put anything in his mouth, she warns. I couldn’t call Daisy at the Hole in the Wall; didn’t know her number. Must rectify that soon. Anyway, Lexi said she was probably too far away to help, and that the fit should only last a couple of minutes at most. I didn’t know her current location, forgot to ask. So I just waited…

… and waited. I glanced at my watch not on my arm. 3 minutes now. Glance again. 3 1/2. Glance again 3 3/4. At this rate it will never end, Zeno’s Paradox. So I stopped glancing at my watch, started counting Mississippi’s. One Mississippi, two Mississippi. On and on I went. 100 Mississippi, and that added on to the 3 3/4 minutes I had to start this. 200 Mississippi — okay, calling Lexi again. “Help!” I said. “Get here!” But just then he sat up, stopped shaking, seizure ended, as if nothing had happened. But he was different, really different. “Where is Edward with the stone?” he monotoned, and threw away his cane into a corner. “I need to talk to Edward. I need to *see*… Edward.”

So I pulled him out of the back of the fireplace where he lived and then this happened.

There they were, all lined up in a row, all holding something. I didn’t know what to make of it! TBC

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November 9, 2025 · 8:55 am

00480502

“What you looking at now, Dr. Mouse? More Youtube poop?” Frank Lynn was truly curious again. What was his dead roommate up to?

“Not *technically*. It’s a video about Grand Theft Auto, you know, the place where *you’re* from, both you and Philip.”

“*Oh.*” Now Frank was *really* curious. “And, let’s see (he peers closer at the screen), there’s a giant eyeball, I see. And… a star?”

“Rockstar,” Mouse answers. “Like the company that created GTA but also your friend. They connect through the lines.”

“Red, green, blue, yellow, yeah,” Frank Lynn recites. “I remember. His creation is like my creation, me being baker b. the user.” Frank knew he had the power to channel all that. Thus the high castle in the skies, the resonance with Heaven here with a capital H. Little *h*ell is far away now for him. But Philip… different story. “What does it mean?” Frank asks. “The picture here, the Rockstar and the eyeball with the lightning bolts. Jupiter?”

“Could be could be. I have to go to the table now. I have to make notes. Please don’t unfreeze the image on the screen here while I work over there.” He points backwards with his cane from his viewing chair, toward the kitchen we saw him sitting at with Frank and Philip a couple of sections ago. I don’t believe he’s shown up in this here blog and attached photo-novel since. Time to bring him back I guess. Oh wait… what’s happening? He’s now on the floor . He’s shaking… violently! Frank… do something! Move the table and its contents to start! TBC

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October 29, 2025 · 8:06 pm

00480409

Philip hadn’t been playing pinball long when he remembered to tell Frank the big news. “Lexi said, get this, the bar’s opening back up next to her house this morning,” he said after finishing the first game, normally a low point of the day since he gets to the higher scores later. “The Hole in the Wall is back in business, baby,” he summarized, and then is about to insert the next quarter into the machine when piano and Spongeberg inventions weary Frank stops him. “Halt!” I believe he said, then: “Go!” And so they went.

—–

“Be with you in just a moment, gents,” she said after glancing at them over her shoulder. “We’re not actually open back up until 2, but that’s fine. Gotta take a break and clean sometime. Working alone right now, until I can get my mechanical man over there fixed up so he can pitch in. That’s a joke, btw.” But then Daisy Flathead thought: Is it?

“We’re fine, ma’am,” said Frank. “Just glad to see the bar up and running again. Place was pretty much wrecked when Lexi had to quickly raise it 100 feet in the air because of the alcoholic sea monster and all. I know she was trying to be careful but… that mouth, so big, so close! But…, erm…”

Daisy guessed what Frank was going to ask; she’s good about that with people. “How can I serve booze when that monster is still out there roaming the Nawt Vaya waters, biding his or her time? I can’t. Never mind all those taps. I only got one. Corona Non… until I can brew my own Non. Mind you, Corona Non’s pretty good. But I’m conjuring up something special. *Special* special. Our Second Lyfe residents won’t know what hit them because it won’t. They’ll — collectively — wait and wait for the kicker, thinking how tasty the drink is. Then they’ll go home perfectly sober but also, strangely, perfectly satisfied. The wives of the normally drunk-ish, boor-ish husbands will thank me and shower me with money so that I can advertise the brew even more, ha. The husbands of the wives might complain a bit about the lack of buzz but will keep thinking of the taste and come back anyway. Taste, my friends. It’s all about the hops. And I have a secret weapon. Flathead.” She points to her own flat hair topped noggin with this. “All in here. And… there. I’m done dusting. So, Non beers all around? That’ll be 5 dollars each.” (TBC)

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October 18, 2025 · 7:54 am

00480314

“And so Edward disappeared back into the woodwork with the seance, hopefully never to be seen again. The End. Thank you so much, Lexi — dawg — for your channeling efforts on this matter. I owe you big time.”

“You’re welcome. But… scroll back to the first picture, Frank,” she requested, trying to stay calm for appearances. She wanted to check and compare.

Yup, that’s him all right. Only the colored version of Pierrot was returned to the walls of the castle, she then knew, and even that might only be temporary. The white one was still out and about, and causing trouble by the looks of what was going on up on the hillside over there. Lexi didn’t have the heart to tell Frank the bad news.

Don’t believe him! Lexi wanted to cry to a potential convert also spied in the distance. Everything *can* be fixed. Her whole existence depends on that very truth.

(TBC)

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